Bitten
by Sherlock221
Summary: Sherlock is bitten by a snake during a case. Hurt/Sherlock Caring/John


The scene of the murder was not a particularly unusual one at first glance. The majority of Lestrade's team had arrived already, much to Sherlock's annoyance.

They didn't even really need the coroner to tell them what the cause of death was, it was clearly the bullet hole in his head, although an official autopsy would still be done to make sure nothing else was missed. There was no sign of the murder weapon, so the assailant had probably taken it with them, but they would conduct a search anyway to be sure it hadn't been dropped nearby.

The victim's flat was of good size and little way out of London. It had been a half hour drive from Baker Street.

The victim, Robert, lived comfortably and seemed to have sufficient funds to keep the small zoo of animals that were also present at the property. There was a large aviary behind the property that contained all manner of colourful birds and a few cages containing rabbits and other small mammals. Animal control had already been called to come and deal with them.

Inside the house, the décor was minimalist but tasteful. However, there were a few unusual details. The main one, which Sherlock was now perusing, was that Robert had been killed in the room where he kept his collection of pet reptiles. A huge number of glass vivariums were arranged on what appeared to be custom made pedestals around the large room.

John watched him with interest as he inspected the various occupants of the tanks. Sherlock was not usually drawn to animals; John wondered if perhaps he saw them as true innocents in a human world where no one was really innocent.

John turned back to the girlfriend, Lily. "Did he have any enemies? Or was there anyone he'd argued with recently?"

Lily shook her head vehemently, her eyes were red with tears, and she kept glancing in the direction of the covered body. "He worked every hour he could, running the shops, and he didn't have much time for anything else. He just didn't know that many people. The two of us met when he employed me to manage the first store that he opened. He loved animals, especially the reptiles." She indicated the tanks around the room. "He's got one of the best collections of venomous snakes in London outside of the major zoos."

Sherlock's ears perked up. "Venomous?" He took an almost imperceptible half step away from the tank he was looking at. The brightly striped snake within flicked its tongue at him.

"Don't worry, he was very careful and the tanks are all secure. That one's just a milk snake anyway. They're not all venomous. It's that one over there that's the real killer. It's the prize of his collection, a Black Mamba." She indicated a dark black snake in one of the tanks. "He'd just had a new one delivered." A packing crate, suitable for a reptile sat in the corner of the room, and her eyes glanced towards it briefly.

John watched Sherlock move along the tanks, pointing to each one with his finger.

"I'd guess you know what all of these snakes are, and which is the new one?"

Lily nodded. "He didn't tell me what species it was, but it'll be in the new tank." She turned towards the end of the line of tanks, and stopped. As did Sherlock.

"Huh. The empty tank with the drops of blood on it. He must have been putting it away as he was shot," said Sherlock turning towards John, with a suddenly genuinely worried look on his face. "John…"

John looked around the room bustling with agents, forensics techs and coroner's assistants, a dawning realisation on his face. He took a deep breath and glanced at Lestrade, who had been listening in on the conversation.

"I want this room clear now. We have a possibly dangerous snake loose in this room," Lestrade demanded.

People hesitated for a moment, because they probably weren't used to being ordered to leave a room due to there being a snake on the loose.

"Now! Out! And someone call animal control again." He started moving towards the door, ushering others in front of her to make sure all the people got out. Lestrade had already flipped his phone out and was calling animal control as he walked out of the room. Sherlock was furthest across the other side of the room. He was taking his time, poking at the box and packing material that the snake had come in.

"Come on, Sherlock, it's not safe in here with an escaped snake."

"It's a big room, John. It's interesting that there aren't any shipping papers in this, don't you think? I'd have expected there…" Suddenly Sherlock let out a yelp and turned quickly to look down. His face when he turned back to John was pale. "I think I just found our missing snake."

John's mouth dropped open. He just had time to think that of course it would have to be Sherlock who got bit, before he rushed across the room and grabbed one of his arms. He hauled him out of the room with him limping as quickly as he could.

"You idiot," seethed John. "The damn snake bit you, didn't it?" They stepped out of the house and onto the porch. He sat Sherlock down on the front step. "Lestrade, call an ambulance!"

Lestrade whipped around as he was hanging up the phone with animal control. "What happened?" He asked, glancing between Sherlock and John. He took in Sherlock's pale face and realized. "Jesus christ!"

"I didn't think the snake would understand irony," Sherlock said as he rolled up his pants leg to reveal two red puncture marks on his left calf. They were already bleeding a little.

"What is ironic about this?" Lestrade asked, pulling out his phone and began dialing the paramedics.

"You shouted something like "get out there's a dangerous snake that may bite you" and that very second the snake bit me."

"That's not ironic, it's just stupid," John said.

Lestrade turned away and started to talk into the phone. Then, asked "Ms Birchley, do you know what kind of snake it is?"

Lily shook her head. "No, Robert didn't tell me what he was buying. It was supposed to be a surprise." She was practically in tears again, simply at the mention of his snake collection.

"No, we don't know the type of snake. Uh huh, okay. Thank you." He closed the phone.

Sherlock looked up at John, doing his best to look completely unconcerned. He was very good at faking it, but this time the paleness of his face gave away the fact that something wasn't right. The bite was clearly painful.

"You're worrying over this too much. I used to know people that worked with snakes, back in my youth. The majority of snake bites are dry bites, that means no venom, and even then most snakes don't put enough venom into a bite to kill a man. In fact it actually takes a snake a lot of effort to produce venom, so they don't use it unless they really have to. It's probably just a puncture wound; at worst I'll feel a bit nauseous." He gave John an apologetic smile which he knew was supposed to put him at ease, but it would need more than that this time. She was actually wondering how much of this to believe. "It's why rattlesnakes rattle after all. Snakes prefer to give warnings rather than waste precious venom."

He crouched down beside Sherlock, grabbed his wrist and started to take his pulse. "Shut up, Sherlock. They said you need to relax and stay as calm as possible."

Which meant that he would also have to be as calm as possible, and that was going to be hard. He really wanted to slap him for being so careless.

John sighed as he removed his hand from Sherlock's wrist. "Sherlock, you need to calm down. The faster your heart rate is, the faster the venom can kill you."

Sherlock's eyes began to glaze over and he gasped. "John."

John sent a worried glance to Lestrade who returned it. "Ok, let's lay you down. You might be going into shock and I don't want to risk it."

John helped Sherlock lean back until he was resting on the patio.

"John.." Sherlock cried. "It hurts."

"I know. Just relax, everythings going to be fine. Just try to relax," John gently urged.

"Anything we can do, boss?" asked Donovan, regarding the scene with concern.

"Grab the first aid kit from the squad car. Then go down the around the corner and make sure that the ambulance knows where to come."

"Yes, sir." Donovan seemed to be grateful to have something to do and left swiftly.

Sherlock frowned. "I don't think this was a dry bite. My leg is feeling a bit strange. Kind of tingly, and heavy."

John did everything he could to disguise his reaction to this news, but he was aware that her eyes were probably giving him away to the man who could read body language as easily as he would read a book. "Sherlock, I need you to slow your heartbeat as much as possible. I know you can do it."

Sherlock gave a half-hearted nod. "I'm doing my best."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes and shuffled a little on the step to get more comfortable. His breathing slowed and became more measured. John could feel that Sherlock's pulse was slowing from what he would consider to be normal, and he hoped that this was a sign that his controlled breathing was working. He marvelled slightly that he could do this at the moment at all.

Donovan returned with the First Aid kit and John began to bandage the wound as carefully as he could. The skin around the puncture marks was already turning a dark red and looking somewhat angry. Even though John was being careful, it was clearly causing Sherlock a good deal of pain.

"John. It's getting a little difficult to catch my breath." He pulled at his collar, even though it didn't seem to be tight. His pulse was rising again.

"Hang in there, Sherlock. The paramedics will be here any moment."

He noticed now that his lungs were working harder than he'd expect for a man resting. He tried to curl onto to one side and Lestrade rapidly positioned himself at his side to stop him. Sherlock barely noticed. His eyes were screwed shut, but when they opened John could see genuine fear behind them.

"Where is the damn ambulance?" John shouted.

He looked around, desperately hoping that it would arrive soon, but it was another few minutes of watching Sherlock's breathing become increasingly laboured before he heard sirens wailing and flashing lights turned onto the drive.

Donovan was directing the ambulance towards the porch, and already running after it.

"John…" Sherlock had to take a deep breath to even speak now. "I don't… like hospitals." His eyes were showing that he was on the verge of panic now.

"I know, I'll come with you. Lestrade can finish things up here." He glanced over to the detective who sat next to Sherlock. Lestrade just gave a silent nod, which was more than enough for him to know that he'd understood. John had complete faith in him to make sure the crime scene and errant snake were dealt with properly.

The paramedics arrived bearing a gurney and a large bag of medical apparatus. Sherlock tried to sit up but was having a lot of difficulty remaining upright, so they moved him to the gurney. John gave them a hand with the lift, to make it a smooth ride for Sherlock.

John reeled off everything that he knew about the circumstances of Sherlock's injury. "He was bitten about fifteen minutes ago; we haven't identified the snake species, and he initially didn't have any problems, but then started complaining of tingling and pain in his leg. He's also having trouble catching his breath."

It took the paramedics only a few moments to pull off Sherlock's jacket, roll up a sleeve, plug an IV into his arm and put an oxygen mask over his face.

John took Sherlock's jacket, aware that he was particular about his suits, even though the pants now had two snake fang marks in them.

Sherlock was sweating profusely, just from the effort of being moved to the gurney, and his eyes were wandering, unfocused. John realised that he must have been at least somewhat out of it to have shown his weaker side and mention his dislike of hospitals.

And yet he was still talking. John found it hard to believe. Sherlock was suffering from a serious snake bite and he was still trying to tell him things.

"John… the crate… the snake… came in… You… should check… that out." It was muffled by the oxygen mask, which he was trying to push away as he spoke, but the paramedics kept repositioning it.

"Sherlock, stop talking and let the paramedics do their job." He helped the paramedics move him into the back of the ambulance, giving Lestrade and Donovan a quick nod as he did so before turning back to Sherlock. "Once they've caught the snake, I'll check out the crate." He couldn't believe that he was actually telling him this, given that his body was most likely fighting against deadly snake venom at this point.

He climbed into the back of the ambulance as Sherlock began to seriously fight off the paramedics. At first he was just pushing them out of the way, but it became more frantic when the door of the ambulance shut behind them. He was actively stopping them from helping him and on the verge of violence, before John could stop him. The ambulance began moving, the siren working up to its full blown blare of sound.

One of the EMTs looked over at John. "Confusion can be pretty common when we're dealing with a snake bite, but I don't want to give him anything to keep him calm. We don't know how it might react with the venom. He needs to give the oxygen and IV a chance to help."

John took up a position beside Sherlock. "Sherlock, stop it. Let them help you. Sherlock!" He grabbed one of Sherlock's arms and was surprised by his strength. John had never had to hold him down before now and hoped he never had to again. He could see that his mind wasn't exactly with him at the moment, so he concentrated on his eyes. "Sherlock, look at me. It's John. You're going to be okay, but you were bitten by a snake. It's the venom in your bloodstream that's making you feel this way."

He looked directly at John with a look of total panic, but it stilled a little as he met his eyes. "Can't… can't breathe… help me. John..."

He wasn't sure at all how to answer this plea for help. He had not experienced this side of vulnerability from Sherlock before.

"Sherlock, it's okay. Sherlock…" He hesitated. The tone of his voice was stern and that of a soldier. It had only ever been used between them at important moments, moments when trust needed to be invoked. "Sherlock, you need to relax, calm down and let the medics help you. The mask is giving you oxygen and you need it."

He too seemed to realise what the tone of John's voice signalled. His eyes were fixed on his face and then they fell closed, but he did stop fighting the paramedics and they were finally able to place the electrodes on his chest for their monitors.

His entire body seemed to visibly let go of the tension in it and attempt to calm itself, despite the difficulty that he was obviously having with his breathing. He remained that way for the fifteen minute journey to the nearest hospital with a suitable trauma unit to deal with a snake bite victim. To John, the journey seemed too long and the wait was interminable, but the paramedics seemed to think he was doing as well as could be expected at this point.

They stopped and the doors opened. Sherlock's eyes peeled open just enough to register his move between the ambulance and the actual hospital. His reach a hand out to grasp John's hand which the man took and squeezed gingerly.

"I'm here, Sherlock."

They entered the hospital and Sherlock began to remember again how much he disliked hospitals. For him they represented plain rooms and too many people. However, he didn't resume his attempts to remove his oxygen mask or take out his IV, he lay back and allowed himself to be transferred to the ER.

He was wheeled into an ER side room, where he was transferred to a bed and the paramedics took their leave after giving the details of his condition to a young, dark haired, female doctor in scrubs and a white coat, who was waiting for them.

John thanked them as they left and then took his position at the side of his best friend again. The nurses had already begun to cut Sherlock's pants off and were moving on to his shirt and vest. John didn't think Sherlock would be happy when he informed him what had happened to his clothes. He made a mental note to get Mrs. Hudson bring in some more for him before he was discharged.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't stay," said the doctor, as she completed an initial check of Sherlock's vitals. "You can wait outside." She wasn't really paying much attention to John, because she was now giving the bite and surrounding area a thorough examination. It was dark red, almost black in places around the bite and oozing blood copiously despite the earlier bandages, which she had just removed and discarded. "Mister…?"

"John." His eyes widened at the mere suggestion that he could leave. "I'm not leaving. I'll stand back, but he needs a friend here. He has a few issues with hospitals and the snake bite is affecting his lucidity. He tried to fight off the paramedics and I don't want him to try the same thing in here. If he does, then I can talk him down."

The doctor gave a quick set of instructions to one of the nurses to bandage the rather gruesome looking wound again. She appeared to have more important things to do than argue with her patient's friend, and John wasn't surprised when she waved him off. "Fine, but if you faint we'll just step over you."

More circular sticky electrodes were placed on Sherlock's chest to monitor his heart and connected by wires to a screen. The doctor checked the notes made by the paramedics again, and seeing that everyone else was occupied, she took out a blood testing kit and began to draw blood from a cannula in Sherlock's arm herself. She collected several vials, labelling each one carefully. She turned to her patient.

"Mr. Holmes? Can you hear me?"

Sherlock nodded, but he was clearly not one hundred per cent, despite the extra oxygen the mask was providing. His eyes fell closed for a moment. "I feel… strange."

The doctor nodded. "I'm Doctor Tate and the good news is I've treated a lot of snake bites. The fact that you're conscious, and answering my questions is a good thing. We're going to start you on a polyvalent antivenin, but really we need to know what kind of snake you were bitten by so that we can give you the monovalent antivenin that is specific to the snake's venom. Can you remember anything about what the snake looked like?"

Normally Sherlock wouldn't have had any problem remembering this and could probably have regurgitated half an encyclopaedia on snake habits too, but he wasn't in any state to perform his usual amazing memory feats. John could see him trying desperately to remember something, whilst also being slightly bewildered as to why his usually sharp recollection wasn't working today. His brow furrowed in concentration. "It… was brown… Patterned, I think."

The doctor actually nodded enthusiastically at this. "Okay, that's good. We're not dealing with a coral snake, or any of the other more colourful species. A few more to tick off the list." She made a note. "The paramedics said that you've got animal control on the scene. As soon as they catch it, we need to know what it was." She looked towards John, who just nodded. He was already thinking the same thing. The doctor continued. "And I should warn you that the majority of patients have some kind of allergic reaction to the antivenin, but its severity varies from patient to patient. We're going to be giving you painkillers to make you more comfortable, antibiotics in case of infection and antihistamines to keep any allergic reaction under control. We'll be monitoring you closely."

Sherlock just looked up at John, his eyes clearly asking him to just take care of this. His breathing seemed a little better on the oxygen, but it still wasn't right.

John looked over at the doctor. "We're in your hands, Doctor."

Tate gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Try not to worry, all the indications so far are that we should be able to manage this and you'll make a complete recovery, Mr. Holmes."

John didn't feel particularly convinced.

Sherlock looked up at Tate and then to John. "Our doctor… is ex-military, John, like you. Good hands."

John took a moment to enjoy the look of bemused surprise on Tate's face, before waiting for the customary question.

"I was Army Medical Corps. How did you know?"

Sherlock gave a small smile and took a deep breath. His voice was weak, tired sounding and still muffled by the oxygen mask. "Hair, nails, way you stand, hold yourself." He closed his eyes. "Very military. You're not long back."

"He's good at reading people," said John by way of explanation. "He's a consulting detective."

"Only...one in the world," Sherlock commented.

"That's pretty clever," she looked at his monitors and made another note on Sherlock's chart.

"Yeah, and he's not even on his best form today," John said, smiling.

A nurse was already hanging new bags of fluid on the IV stand and John hoped some of them would start working soon.

"Okay, I need to get these blood tests to the lab. I'll be back once we have the results. In the meantime, Mr. Holmes should try to get some rest. You can stay if you like, John, as long as you don't get in our way."

John nodded. "Understood." At least this doctor did seem to know what she was doing, and John was warming up to her.

"And get me the species of that snake." Tate headed out of the door.

John watched the nurse take blood and check IV lines for a moment, before he looked around for a seat. The only chair in the room was a moulded plastic seat with metal legs that looked decidedly uncomfortable, but would have to do.

"You ok?" John asked, looking up at his friend.

Sherlock's eyes were shut and although he was still not breathing well, he was calm and seemed to be sleeping.

John flipped open his phone and called Lestrade.

A/N Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought and if you are interested in the continuation of the story.


End file.
